His Insecurities
by Frolise
Summary: [Chapter 6] - Light and darkness are of the same coin - one without the other completes an imperfect being. Dark Pit's frustrations grow as Pit clings to his unwavering faith in Palutena.


_That awkward moment when you upload the wrong document for the fanfic... Sorry._

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><p>The complexity of light and darkness forever stained the pages of history, an entity that ceased to exist without the other half. Two sides of a coin, light and dark, were destined to oppose, but neither force was destined to conquer. A world bathed in light, a world bathed in shadow... Both would end in ruin due to the severe lack of imbalance. Ironically, too much light is not generous to the soul.<p>

Teachings practically gift-wrapped from an older generation had been landed in his lap – he understood the threat each side donned if the scale were upset. Confusion stirs in his stomach and he feels sick at the entire ordeal. Yes, he's quite aware words will not sway the mirror image that stands above him.

Why would Palutena favor the elimination of his darker half?

"Dark Pit is fundamentally wicked and destructive... His very existence is unnatural. He must be eliminated." The goddess had declared in a voice, unwavering and firm.

It was an order.

Pit did _not _go against orders.

Lances of wind tear through the atmosphere, toying with his scarf, running bony fingers through hair and swiping over a face glazed with perspiration. He licks his lips, the salty taste of sweat seeping into mouth. His limbs protest in vain as he pushes himself on all fours, legs crying as he attempts to stand.

His movement is halted by a quick _fwip_, and he is immobilized to the ground, bits of sediment biting into his palms, digging roughly into kneecaps. He grits his teeth, the urge to release his hold on the ripe cry in his throat.

(_he's far from losing though, there is no towel to throw in_)

A thin platform of light edged its way between darkened clouds, settling at the tip of silver and blue metal. He mentally chides himself for being distracted by musings and insecurities, blue hues refusing to lock onto the blade. Distantly, he feels a tug of concern at the back of his mind followed by a mental exclaim of his name. He refuses to respond.

"Pathetic," Dark Pit scoffs, refusing to withdraw. The comment is pushed out roughly, as if it's the most rotten curse to ever leave his lips. Pit's head lifts, not fully making eye contact with his other half, but enough for the tip of the weapon to equal his stare. He was _not _done... Not yet. "You're pathetic – nothing but a hollow shell for Palutena to pull the strings. Does it _need _to be knocked in your head? Are you that _stupid _to accept that there is nothing to you than a fake front?" The blade withdraws (_much to Pit's surprise_) and is replaced by a fist that curls into his shirt, yanking him forward roughly. "You'd rather _lie _and allow your insecurities tear you from the inside than face them like anyone else."

The words are hurled roughly, their edges scraping against his face, but he does not flinch. It is with a heavy breath and a long drop of eyelids that he responds.

"What would you know about insecurities..." Lids reveal unyielding stare. Despite the quiver on his shirt as Dark Pit's fist clenches tighter to fabric, Pit continues. "...when you're just a copy of me?"

Sparks ignite in red hues before lips pulls back in a snarl. A mixture of phrasing and a slight touch of arrogance that filtered into the tone cut through Dark Pit's thread-like patience. He grabs his lighter half with both hands now, hurling him to the ground with as much force as he can muster. "_Shut it_!" he barks, rising from crouched stance. Roughly, he jams both ends of his weapons together, forming a Silver Bow. "You and your goddess make your point quite clear. But it's you, _Pit_, that falls right in line with her commands. You follow them blindly, slapping on a stupid grin to lighten the mood, and then go marching into battle. If anything, _you're _the copy, only _half _of what someone could be. Acting insufferably upbeat and optimistic... it will only lead you to your downfall."

The left side of his face received the most brunt from the slash of turf. Hands support the upper half of his body, suspending him from the cruel, familiar platform. He spits, specks of blood dotting lips and gray stone alike. His cheek feels as if it's on fire, dirt blending with the sanguine markings of a new wound.

**_Pit! _**Palutena's near screaming now. **_Get away from him! I'll pull you out-!"_**

Something hard and heavy claps to his right shoulder, submitting him into a weaker, vulnerable position. He's unable to restrain a grunt of pain as face is shoved down yet again. The fingers of his left hand hastily grope against the floor, blindly searching for his bow. Ignorant realization floods over him: Dark Pit wouldn't leave the weapon in such an accessible range.

Pit expects another blow, something to inflict more pain...

Astonishment arrows through him and his breath hitches when his darker half bends forward, lips dangerously close to his ear.

"Until you realize you'll _never _be complete without acceptance of insecurities, flaws... You might as well let your goddess lead you to hell and back. You may not see it, but I know your faith isn't as absolute as you claim it to be." Each breath of word shudders outside the tunnel of his ear, and somewhere, deep down inside of Pit, something quakes.

The weight leaves his body. "I went easy on you this time." A familiar chime dissipates behind him, an activation of flight. By the time Pit looks over his shoulder, dark wings cloaked in violet aura look like a speck in the heavy sky. More planks of light bleed through the clouds, and as Pit slowly rises to his feet, the voice of Palutena swings back to his mind.

**_Pit… Are you okay...?_**

He rakes his discarded weapon, taking the object in trembling hands. The lingering words of Dark Pit sat unnaturally well against the corners of unfiled thoughts. He would be taking out that file very soon, scrolling through each letter with a dreadful anxiousness and curiosity. Pit exhales, tries to straighten himself out as best he can and disregard the soreness that envelopes his body.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he assures, a weak laugh extracted from lips out of instinct. "Though I gotta admit the centurions may not be the _only _ones in need of extra training." Immediately does hollowness expand in his chest, and he's horrified by a strike of realization.

Dark Pit was right.

**_Well, yes, but that may not be necessary for now. _**Palutena's voice trails off, as if the goddess herself is struggling to form the right words. **_Let's get you back. You've been through enough today._**

A cascade of light spills through the sky, showering the young angel before he's pulled back to the world above.


End file.
